Ahh...remember way back when I first started this story and actually updated on time? Good times. I don't suppose I should even appologize for taking FOREVER to update, since your probably sick of my excuses anyway...unless you hate this story and were pleasantly convinced that I had abandoned this story in which case...why are this again? Anyway, today is officially the first day of my spring break so expect an update soon. Really this time.

Disclaimer: Of course I don't own it. Must you force me to remember that painful topic every time?

Draco rolled over in bed, and not only just because it was lumpier than one of Neville Longbottom's potions. For the majority of his second year, Draco had had a nightmare in which he was flying alone and just as he was about to reach out and catch the snitch, he found he was incapable of moving his hand to grab it. It was always right about then Harry Potter (usually much more pimply and shorter than he was in reality) had swooped down and snatched it right from under his nose. As the scene in the bathroom replayed in his mind, he couldn't help but be reminded of that dream. He had been so close. There had been Ginny, completely flustered and perfectly innocent. If he had reached up and kissed her just then, he knew she wouldn't have pulled away. But still, he had found himself immobilized, completely unprepared. It was almost as if he had been nervous, but that was, of course, completely preposterous. He hadn't been nervous around a girl since he was twelve. Well and there was Pansy. He was always nervous around Pansy, but that was for a completely unrelated reason. He would just have to accept that whatever the dodgy fluttering feeling he'd gotten in his stomach just came from the food, which he had been astounded to discover, had been made by Mrs. Weasley herself.

He'd always know the Weasleys didn't have maids or house-elves (Merlin knew he'd tortured them for it), but he'd never really considered the applications. The cleaning he had been forced into doing hadn't been too shocking, but the fact that they actual had to cook for themselves? He tried to picture his mother in an apron, cooking peach cobbler and nearly laughed aloud. The image was pushed aside when he once again saw Ginny, breathing heavily, green eyes shining. He cursed, banishing the picture and replacing it with another. This one, Ginny standing almost cornered against the wall, looking up at him in abashed uneasiness, her breath catching as he approached. If her idiot brother hadn't walked in just then…

Stupid twit. Draco rolled over and tried to go to sleep.

That night, he dreamt about chasing the snitch into his kitchen only to crash huge mountain of peach cobbler. When he poked his head out, his mother was standing there with Ginny, admonishing him for not using a spoon.

It was quarter to eleven when he woke up the next morning. Lazily, he wallowed in the comfort of the blankets for several minutes before slowly pushing one leg over the side of the bed. After another long moment, he slid his other leg over the edge and stood stretching for a moment. His stomach growled loudly. As he climbed loudly down the stairs he paused at Ginny's room. The door was open and no one was inside. From the light trickling down from the opposite staircase, he guessed Ron and Harry were already up and about too. Now, at the foot of a second flight of stairs, he could hear the obnoxious notes of Christmas carols ringing from below. For a second, he considered turning around and going back upstairs, but his stomach made an undignified protest. Grumbling when he finally reached the first floor, he followed the sound of voices.

He found them in the living room. Ron and Harry were signing a rather lurid Christmas song entitled, "Too Big for Your Chimney". Hermione was holding a garland while Ginny, balancing rather precariously on the top of an armchair, hung it along the top of the wall, creating a festive, if not garish, multicolored border. There were all still in there pajamas. Ginny, wearing what was undoubtedly on of her brother's shirts, a long-sleeved, brown flannel shirt that would probably have normally come somewhere around her mid-thigh, was standing on her tip-toes, and the material was riding up considerably. He paused, taking a moment to appreciate her long, thin legs.

"And Santa's grabbed the presents and took away the tree, 'cause for this you'll be on the naughty list until you're ninety-three!" She finished the last line of the song with the boys.

"Some day, Weasley," He drawled, "you'll have to show me exactly what 'this' is."

He knew Ron would make him pay for that later, but the look on her face as she turned around was worth it. She spun so quickly on her heel that the whole chair toppled over and with surprising grace (for her at least) she was able to catch herself before falling completely to the ground. He smirked slightly as he noticed her try and smooth the nightshirt. He turned his head slightly so that Weasel and Pot-Head wouldn't see him and then let his eyes roam slowly and suggestively down her body. The gesture was more to discomfort her then for his benefit, but that didn't stop him from noticing how nicely the heavy material fell over her curves. The deep brown set off her hair, and made her ivory skin even paler then usual. The effect should have made her freckles stand out more; instead, they, matching the fabric almost exactly in shade, looked like a thousand tiny jewels added purposely to finish off the ensemble. He thought of Pansy in her lacy pink nightgown and decided it was almost unfair that anyone should look so good in brown flannel.

Hermione, unfortunately, caught his glaze and frowned. She opened her mouth and was about to say something when Mrs. Weasley came in. She too was in pajamas, a purple knit robe covering them.

"Oh, Ginny, that garland's lovely." She said smiling. Noticing Draco, her smile faltered a moment, but it was only gone a second before she plastered another one. "Good morning, Mr. Malfoy."

He smiled charmingly. "Oh, please, ma'am, just call me Draco. I never got the chance yesterday to thank you for your hospitality. Opening your house to me- and on such sort notice- and with so many other guests already! I just hope I'm not putting you out too much."

Ron and Ginny both snorted loudly. He ignored them.

"Oh, well, aren't you just too sweet?" Mrs. Weasley said smiling sincerely now. "And don't you worry, you are no trouble at all. Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Well, I was about to find a shower-"

"No showers, Malfoy." Ginny interrupted, smiling. "Weasley family Christmas rule. No gets out of their pajamas for the whole first day of holiday."

"Oh, Ginny don't be silly. I'm sure Draco will want to shower after how far you all traveled yesterday. And," She added chidingly, "Draco is your guest, I expect you to call him by his proper name."

She smiled again. "Feel free to use the bathroom on the third floor."

"Come in," he said. The knock on the bathroom door had been almost inaudible.

Ginny opened the door, holding a light blue towel. "I- ah- realized you didn't know where the towels were." She said, averting her eyes and blushing furiously.

Draco, again in his attempt at honesty had to admit he was a narcissist. He had a running total of every girl that had ever said anything complimentary about him and which pants had elicited that response. He knew exactly which outfit to wear to make his eyes stand out. So he knew, that standing there in just his satin pajama pants, having casually discarded his shirt on the bathroom floor, he was Apollo reincarnate. He didn't need the mirror to tell him exactly how low the material was clinging on his hipbones.

He smiled at her, reaching out to accept the towel. "What's the matter, Weasley?"

"N-N-Nothing." She stuttered, despite her valiant attempts to look at the tile, her eyes had (inevitably, in his opinion) returned to his chest.

He couldn't exactly have been called skinny, but he certainly wasn't in any way, heavy. He had a long, wiry build. There were no bulging muscles; seekers didn't need them. Everything about his body advertised an economy of resources- nothing lacking, nothing in excess.

He smirked. "Just admit that you're freakishly attracted to me. It okay. I don't mind that kind of thing." He said, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

Ginny, breaking out of her trance, snorted. "I swear someone needs to get you medication. And lots of it."

"Don't need it." He said smugly. "Everything's in proper working condition. I have a list of girls able to testify to that, if you need recommendations."

She laughed. "Is that all you ever think about?"

He grinned. "Well, occasionally I think about quidditch. You know," He said, looking thoughtful, "I think that's the first time you've laughed at me."

She snorted again. "Certainly not. I laugh at you all the time. Mostly loudly and cruelly when you're not in the room."

He looked slightly hurt. "I meant when I was trying to be funny."

"You were trying to be funny? Hmm, I thought you were trying to be honest. I should have known that was unlikely."

He paused. Had this been a month ago, he would have been insulted. Or, at the very least thought she was upset. But the banter had fallen into an almost friendly tone, not unlike something he would have said to Blaise.

"Aak." He pretended to glare. "I'm sick of your abuse. Get out of here."

"And if I don't?" She asked innocently.

"These pants are coming off in five seconds, whether you're in here or not, Weasley."

"Fine, fine, Malfoy I'm leaving! No need to threaten me." She said throwing a hand over her eyes with a grin and closing the door behind her.

He was slightly disappointed. He'd almost expected her to stay.

Narcissa sighed. "I just feel like there's something more I should be doing."

"You've done enough." Snape said, reassurances sounding awkward on his lips.

She smiled sadly at him. "Draco's been distant lately. I guess I'm just worried. He used to write weekly, now I'm lucky if I hear from him more than twice a month. You're sure you can't-"

"We've been through this before, Narcissa. It's better –for both of you- if you don't know."

"You're right, of course, it just kills me not knowing where my son is. You promise me he's safe?"

Snape nodded solemnly.

"Severus, you're sure that you've got it under control. The woman? Molly?"

"I've told Dumbledore. He's got double guard on her. Everything will be fine."

"A double guard? Will that be enough?"

"I don't know." Snape said honestly. "Dumbledore seems to think so."

Narcissa reached across the table and took his hand in hers and squeezed. They sat for a moment in silence.

"You'd better go." She said finally.

He agreed, taking his coat and standing. He looked at her one last time. "It will be okay, Narcissa."

"George, that doesn't match!"

"What are you talking about? It matches the one Fred's putting on." George answered innocently.

"What?" Mrs. Weasley asked, spinning to face Fred who was putting on an identical purple orb. "Fred!"

In the meantime, George slipped his own ornament onto the tree.

The initial plan had been for a gold and red themed Christmas tree (for Gryffindor, of course,) but it had quickly deteriorated into a competition of which Weasley child could sneak the most of their homemade decorations onto the tree. Construction paper and colored clay were quickly overpowering the branches. There were at least three little paper ornaments with Ginny's smiling school picture on them, and at least twice that many of the twins (who, had against their will been forced to take separate school portraits. To compensate, they would take turns disappearing from their own ornaments to crowd into the other's). There were two little lumps of red and green clay that Ginny explained were Charlie's and were supposed to be dragons. Ginny's cousins, who had no ornaments of their own to contribute, were busily haphazardly tossing garlands and tinsel, which only occasionally made it to the tree. There was one with a picture of the trio on it and Draco observed that Mrs. Weasley had just happened not to notice Harry slipping it on.

The whole family had crowded into the living room for the spectacle, and, as Ginny had said, they were all still in their pajamas. Even Arthur, who'd had to go into work that day had come home and immediately traded his suit for a long nightshirt. The only ones who refused to participate were Percy, a set of twins, (who with their glasses and upturned noses were not only reflections of each other, but miniatures of their older cousin), and Draco himself. All of the Weasleys occasionally looked over at Percy sadly, as if expecting that they would magically find him wearing comfortably wearing footy pajamas instead of his work clothes and a scowl.

After a while Fred and George abandoned their decorating to teach Ron and Harry a second verse of "Too Big for Your Chimney," and Molly was livid.

"Think of the example you're setting!" She bellowed over the chorus. Ginny, with a grin, joined in. "Virginia Weasley! Stop that this instant."

She gave up when Arthur belted out the last few lines with his children. She was looking imploringly at her sister-in-law.

From the other room, a baby started crying.

"On no." The woman said.

"Don't worry, Aunt May," Ginny said standing up, a small mountain of tinsel falling to the floor as she did. "I'll get it."

Draco noticed with distinct disappointment a pair of one of her brothers' baggy shorts had appeared to go under he pajamas.

"Thank you, Ginny. Why did I ever agree to it, Molly? Seven children?"

Mrs. Weasley laughed. "Brotherly competition. Dave couldn't very well have less then Arthur. Arnold's wife Anne put her foot down at six and they never let him live it down."

The conversation continued on and the longer Ginny was gone, the more acutely uncomfortable Draco became.

His discomfort increased when he suddenly heard someone exclaim, "Blimey, Draco Malfoy! Do I have the wrong fireplace?"

He looked up into the fire. In the midst of the flames was the head of Seamus Finnigan, the annoying Gryffindor.

The boy caught sight of Ron and Harry and looked even more baffled. Harry was about to say something when Mrs. Weasley turned to face the boy and said with a smile, "Why, Seamus, wonderful to see you. Did you need something?"

"I- I was just looking for Ginny." He said, still staring at the blond in front of him in bemusement. Then, as an afterthought he added. "Sorry to interrupt like this, Mrs. Weasley. Hope I'm not bothering you too much."

"Not at all." She said beaming. "I'll call Ginny right now. There's another fireplace in the kitchen. It's two floos down if you want to talk there."

Seamus smiled hesitantly and muttered a quick thank you before disappearing.

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley called and after a second Ginny appeared at the doorway carrying a baby and a bottle. "Here, give him here. Seamus is waiting in the kitchen fireplace to talk to you."

Ginny handed the baby to her mother and hurried off to the kitchen. Seamus was indeed waiting for her when she arrived.

"Ginny, what on earth is going on down there? I just flooed into your living room and Draco Malfoy was in there! Did you know?"

"Yes."

"Why, Ginny? Why?"

"Look, it's a terribly long story, Seamus. I'd appreciate if you didn't say anything about it."

"Is he going to be there the whole holiday?"

She nodded.

"I'm sorry, Gin. He must be a nightmare."

She smiled. "It's not too horrible. Did you need something, Seamus?"

"I just wanted to know when we could get together to shop for Hannah. We're going to visit my aunt for the next three days, but anytime after the twelfth works."

"The thirteenth then? That's a Wednesday, isn't it? That should be fine."

"Great, Ginny. I really appreciate you doing this. Hannah'll be thrilled."

"Anytime, Seamus. Have a pleasant visit with your aunt." She said, giving him another smile before he vanished.

Ginny walked back into the living room. Her mother was grinning insanely at her.

"Can we go to Diagon Alley this Wednesday?" She asked.

"Of course. Lovely boy, Seamus, isn't he?"

I'm sure even my most loyal readers are wonder when SOMETHING will actually happen. I promise, not only is there some actual romance on the way there is - surprise, surprise- a PLOT. Anyway, for those of you who are still reading...help is on the way.

Just kidding. Sort of. Anyway, thank you all so much for being so supportive and being awesome reviewers. Remember helpful criticism is always appreciated. Love'ya lots.